


powerless and i don't care it's obvious

by marcaskane (noblydonedonnanoble)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (but also because writing this was an excuse to worship Marcus Kane's body), (partially because it's relevant), Body Worship, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:23:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8059735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblydonedonnanoble/pseuds/marcaskane
Summary: Abby feels frisky after a long shift in Medical.





	

                Abby’s been itching to go home for hours.

                Her shift was supposed to end at midnight, but as it is, an onset of flu has taken the camp by storm, meaning that medical has needed all hands on deck to distribute medicine to those who are already unwell and administer vaccines to those who are not.

                But as it’s gotten later and later, she’s been getting increasingly distracted.

                Under most circumstances, she’s better than this. She gets in the zone while she’s working and it’s fine. It’s all fine. But there’s something about her energy when she woke up this morning, something about the way Marcus looked when Abby rolled over and saw him coming out of the shower with his hair dripping and a towel around his waist…

                 If the council didn’t have such an important meeting planned to discuss the very illness that’s been causing her so much headache, she’d have been very tempted to pull him back into bed and not allow him to leave it all day. She’d clamored out of bed, tugged him into a hard, eager kiss, and Marcus mostly got her to get ready for the day with the promise that she’d have him all to herself that evening.

                That evening has come and gone, and as she walks through the deserted halls of the Ark, Abby tries to brace herself for the possibility that Marcus is asleep. He waits up for her when he has the energy, but he’s always been quite the morning person, and depending on how much he’s got to do tomorrow—

                She envisions him still awake anyway, sitting up in bed and intently focused on whatever book he’s reading at the moment. She’s eager for a shower, but that can wait. Much more important that she joins Marcus in bed, climbs into his lap, curls her fingers through his hair as he kisses her… She thinks of herself digging her nails into his shoulders as he tucks his hand between her legs…

                For a moment, it feels as though all of Abby’s dreams have crashed to the ground around her when she opens the door to the Chancellor’s quarters and finds herself stepping into a pitch black room.

                In the dim light from the hallway, she sees Marcus’s sleeping form, curled up and facing away from the door. The blanket only comes to about halfway up his torso, and before she shuts the door, she can just barely make out a light bruise that she’d left on his shoulder blade a few nights before. It’s faded somewhat, but its distinct presence puts a smile on her lips.

                On one or two occasions, Marcus has told her that she’s welcome to wake him up if she’s ever feeling particularly horny when she comes home from a late shift, but she’s never taken him up on it. Regardless of his reassurances, it seems unfair to disturb him just so that he can get her off.

                Abby glances at their bed once more. Marcus grunts softly in his sleep, rolling over onto his back. She bites her lip for a moment, well aware that it is late and that she should probably just go to sleep and shower in the morning.

                Unfortunately, as Abby discards her clothes in the hamper, her skin buzzes with an anticipation that she can’t manage to suppress. So she grabs a towel and one of Marcus’s shirts – he’ll grumble about her sleeping in it when he wakes up in the morning, but she knows he’ll probably take it and wear it so that he can have the smell of her on him all day – and tip toes around the bed to get to the bathroom.

                She lets out a sigh the moment the warm water courses down her skin. Her muscles ache from the day, and one of the reasons she loves the Chancellor’s quarters so much – one of the reasons that she jokingly tells Marcus she wanted to move in with him – is that the water pressure hits her just right, beginning to loosen her tense shoulder and back muscles as steam billows up around her.

                The image of Marcus appears before Abby as soon as she shuts her eyes. He doesn’t like shower sex all that much—“I can’t enjoy it when I’m constantly worried that we’ll slip and crack our heads open,” he always tells her. Which is a shame, because she likes seeing his chest glistening with smooth water droplets, likes the way his damp, dark hair frames his features as he blinks down at her. And that’s how she pictures him now, a sleepy smile on his face as water drips from his broad shoulders, down his arms and chest.

                He’s got a few days’ stubble on his face, she decides. He’s so indecisive about his facial hair these days, leaving it for weeks at a time and then shaving it for seemingly no reason. But Abby likes the scruff, the slight burn on her skin as he kisses her. And this phantom Marcus does lean in to kiss her, tracing his tongue along her neck and sucking gently at her skin.

                Smiling to herself just slightly, Abby hums and presses her hand between her legs in the same moment that she pictures Marcus reaching for her. In reality, he would be more patient about it, kissing her slowly as he gradually works her up, but Abby’s not in the mood to hold herself off tonight, so in her imagination, Marcus massages her clit with great purpose in conjunction with her own fingers.

                As she grows increasingly turned on, Abby savors the hot water streaming over her back, down her legs, in conjunction with her shivering. It’s around this point that Marcus would ghost the fingers of his free hand over her arm, her side, around this point that Marcus would stop kissing her so that he could make some teasing or affectionate comment (depending on his mood). She decides on teasing—she needs him to be teasing her right now.

                _It’s not taking much to get you worked up tonight_ , he might whisper. She bites back a groan at the very thought of the words, hoarse but oh-so-gentle. And true. Very, very true.

                If he were in there with her, she’d instruct him to fuck her. He’d probably lift her up and press her against the wall, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist but taking an obnoxiously long time to press into her, slow and determined. And of course Abby can’t replicate such movements, but she does lean against the wall for support as she fingers herself.

                Marcus, her phantom Marcus, kisses her eagerly. He continues to rub her clit in conjunction with his even thrusts, smiling into her mouth as she starts to moan. Abby would knot her fingers into his hair—somehow she always ends up groping for his hair, soft and dripping wet and…

                “Would you like some help?”

                Abby falls away from her fantasy in an instant, jolting upright as she opens her eyes and sees a very real Marcus standing in front of her, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants and a very amused smile.

                “Marcus—I—” She stammers for words, simultaneously pleased and annoyed that he’s interrupted her, because she was probably a minute or so from an orgasm. “You were asleep,” she finally informs him dumbly.

                “You were moaning. Loudly,” he replies. He by no means looks annoyed; on the contrary, he smirks wider as he asks, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

                “I don’t need your help to get off,” Abby tells him, almost defensive.

                He stares at her for a moment in silence before asking, “But may I offer it anyway?”

                If Abby weren’t already full to bursting with anticipation, she might at least put Marcus off for a minute or too. But her breath is still caught in her throat and she still feels a few stray sparks running up and down her spine and if she doesn’t come soon, she thinks she might explode, so she says, “God, yes.”

                Marcus, the real Marcus, is naked on the shower floor in front of her in an instant. Abby’s up against the wall again, but this time Marcus is holding her there, his hands splayed across her hips as he presses a few stray kisses to her thighs.

                She tugs on his hair, urging him on, and he laughs lightly against her skin before diverting his attention to run his tongue gently along her folds.

                It feels like only a moment later that Abby finds herself growing breathless as her stomach curls. She shuts her eyes tightly. She longs for Marcus to be inside her as she climaxes, but she knows that’s not going to happen, so she’s on the verge of instructing him to finger her when he does, two fingers pressing into her as his tongue continues to trace patterns over her clit.

                “I love you,” she gasps immediately. Loves that he knows her body well enough by now that she hardly even has to ask for what she needs. And even though she finds herself at a loss for further words to express this affection, she thinks that between her moans and sighs, Marcus hears her.

                Abby feels her orgasm hit in her toes and fingertips, first, before it fills every fiber of her being with a desperate, trembling energy that overwhelms her. If it weren’t for Marcus, she’d probably be unable to remain on her feet, but he holds her as she gasps his name and shudders.

                Then he’s on his feet again, leaning over her, and she blinks away the stars from her eyes just as he ducks down to kiss her.

                “Can I go back to bed now?” he mumbles into her mouth.

                “Mhm.”

                By the time Abby’s washed up and climbed into bed, Marcus is already half-asleep. But he has enough energy to pull her into his arms and press a soft kiss to the crown of her head, and to mumble, “I can’t believe you stole that shirt again.”


End file.
